Low and warm, the autumnal light sculpts the landscape of plants into a deep, three-dimensional screen. Backlit grasses and foliage glow, and sparks of light reflected through long irregular interstices give the garden a power lost almost totally when the day turns glum and cloudy.
Some evidence of maturity in the small Brooklyn garden belies its true age–only 16 months since planting started, merely a toddler garden. I wonder if I’m in for a bout of the “terrible twos.”
Overflowing, abundant, voluptuous–the garden grows. My neighbor’s rose made me add voluptuous. I have no roses in my garden, but in such close quarters, it appears I’ve borrowed one. Yes, voluptuously it droops, limply, wet with rain.